


A Cafe Chat

by Swedish_Jester



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swedish_Jester/pseuds/Swedish_Jester
Summary: An unnamed turf war player goes to a cafe to have a little meal. Soon after, they decide to have a little chat with the employees.(The setting is a fake Splatoon 3 Inkopolis/Cafe made by some friends and I. It's a story honestly built entirely upon the joke of 'man im gay for *insert character name here* that I, one day, decided should become a short story.)





	A Cafe Chat

Two teams slowly shuffle into a series of rooms, a slight ways away from a turf covered battlefield. They clean themselves off, having just fought a hell of a battle using their ink weapons. The two teams chat amongst themselves and between one another, waiting for the result to proclaim a winner of the paint-based combat. Soon enough, two bars slowly filled up on a large monitor. They closed in on another, and slowed down to a near halt. Suddenly, one of them retracted a bit, with another spiking forward by a slight margin. The colored team with the majority of the bar in their ink color cheered eagerly, with the other team expressing a simultaneous ‘aww’, feeling a bit saddened. They were dismissed, and all boarded a nearby train which transported them to the relatively close, bustling Inkopolis Cove.  


The Cove was large and very densely populated. There were citizens of various species, fashion, advertisements, and stores as far as the eye could see. It was a hotspot of trends and the latest and greatest of the Inkopolis family of cities. Walking out of the Lobby, which was a large, descending building marked mainly by a large, limestone arch nicknamed ‘The Door’ by the Cove’s denizens, a member of the winning team stares out at the city with pride. They’d just won a Turf War and now have some money spare to spend. Perhaps they could go and get some new threads. Some snazzy looking clothes and new, useful abilities would be great to have. Alternatively, they could buy a new, cool weapon. Being able to fight with an entirely new style and new weapon kit could turn the tide of most battles and help them win more, which in turn would mean more money! They had various ideas, racing through their mind, but were suddenly interrupted. Their stomach growled loudly, yearning for a meal following such a straining Turf War.  


Chuckling a bit nervously, they look down at their stomach, then back up to the sprawling central plaza of the city. The Turf War player glanced around, scanning the area for a specific building… There! Their eyes caught sight of a slightly small building -- a cafe, relatively small and practically coated in windows that opened the view from within to provide a sightseeing opportunity for their customers. Speaking of customers -- there were quite a few. It wasn’t entirely filled, but the establishment was clearly bustling and lively. They walked towards it eagerly, daydreaming of a large plate of pastries and a steaming hot cup of hot cocoa… The player was practically drooling in their dreams. In fact, they were drooling a bit outside of their dream, shuffling over towards the cafe practically like a zombie.  


As they enter the building, the light chatter of the establishment is clearly heard, and the chimes above the door ring out. An eager, dark-brown tentacled employee sits at the far back of the cafe, plonking away at the piano, filling the entire building with a soft, mellow tune. His fingers move like the weaving silk on a loom. The song dips down to a quieter, slow bridge, and the employee reaches up for a quick moment to adjust his glasses with his middle finger. Soon after, he rests his formerly free hand back down upon the piano, continuing with the chorus of the song. The player takes a deep breath, enjoying the scent of pastries, coffee, and the small trace of seawater from the nearby ocean, clearly seen through the back windows. A quiet, white-pink tentacled girl paces around the cafe, quietly writing down and documenting various patrons’ requests and seating some. She sets the orders down on the back table in order, mumbling quietly to another employee, who stood at work on them. Once that employee finishes fulfilling those orders, the girl takes them and brings them to the awaiting customer, responding with a soft ‘enjoy’, upon giving it to them. Soon after, what seems to be a final employee with crimson red tentacles and glasses, approaches a tray with a veteran swiftness and gentleness, picking it up with ease, despite how many orders were atop it. He glances down at the list of orders for a second, his light hazel eyes skimming over it, and looks back up, walking towards the various tables all around the cafe. He hands each table and group their orders, mumbling a little ‘enjoy’ after each table, walking off to tend to other tables. Upon finishing, he walks right back to the counter, picking up any potential extra orders, leading any potential groups to a free table, and rushing to clean any potentially dirtied tables. If none of the aforementioned apply, he would simply rest, standing beside the stage the musician worked upon and stared up at a TV. He commonly glanced back down, and was clearly still alert for any people who needed anything or needed to be served. The player was a part of the aforementioned people who would be seated by the inkling in question, and eagerly was led to his seat near the Musician and the back window. They ordered a plate of pastries and a large cup of hot cocoa, which was eagerly scribbled down on a little notepad carried by the waiter. The inkling walked off, remarking the common ‘enjoy’ before going back to tending to the other patrons who needed his attention.

A while had gone by in the cafe, and the player had spent a notable period of time there, enjoying his drink and pastries, even getting refills and more. That match really was draining, they thought to themselves. The cafe lacked many patrons at this rate, as most people had funneled out after the main rush following the end of most people’s shifts and jobs, and while there were still a small handful, it was very peaceful in comparison. They were approaching closing time, and thus the musician had gotten off the stage and the employees spent most of their time chatting amongst themselves. At some point, the player approaches a particular 3 employees, hoping to chat. They first speak to the musician, pointing out how well he’d played, and asking about the songs in question. The topic ends up involving the general modern artists, and the musician providing some interesting facts and information. The instrument playing inkling had eventually gone back to keeping his sax and guitar in good shape.

The player’s attention had shifted over to the white-pink haired inkling, who was quickly cleaning up some of the tables as the few remaining patrons other than the player walked out. She looked up at the player with a soft smile as they’d started conversation while the inkling worked. She chatted about the day as a whole, a bit about turf war, along with the establishment. The topic eventually swung around to the general patrons, especially those that were common. They chatted for a while, and the player eventually walked off once the girl finished working and began heading out.

The only remaining employee was the inkling with the red tentacles, who paced around the establishment, mumbling to himself, and occasionally looking down at a tablet. He sometimes shifted certain items about, cleaning the cafe and generally making it nicer. The player had asked him what he was doing and why. The boy explained how he works the latest shift, which mostly spent preparing the cafe for the next day, cleaning it up, making sure everything was in stock, and generally tallying overall usage of ingredients. He made small talk here and there with the player, going on about the coziness of the cafe. Eventually, they’d begun discussing turf war and ranked. The inkling probed the player with various questions involving playstyle and the like. He’d commonly follow up the answers with a tip in relation to it. The player, appreciating the support and the general conversation, had eventually noticed that, occasionally, the inkling would just lose track of the current question or discussion, focusing on the TV more than usual. It was mainly when the current news anchors, Corry and Reefa, were on the screen. The inkling was, eventually, heard mumbling, “man i’m really gay for corry.”

The player eventually regained the attention of the inkling, who’d introduced himself as Rem. Throughout the conversation following that earlier comment, the inkling in question had suddenly grown notably more red in the face, and was pretty hesitant in response. Eventually, it was fully deemed closing time, and the player walked out, with Rem following after, upon finishing the rest of his tasks. While it was a small comment, it still stood out in the mind of the player as they walked out. It was so sudden and led Rem to seem much more nervous than normal. The player chuckled a bit and continued walking on, heading back home. They’d enjoyed the little interactions and chats. The pastries and cocoa were definitely good, too!

**Author's Note:**

> haha funny rem gay for corry joke goes here.


End file.
